Adam didn’t have time for pleasantries. He didn’t have time to set up a meeting and pour a scotch; he didn’t have time to haggle or barter. The Soul Stealers had his best friend, his oldest friend; he didn’t have time for anything. Adam had met Joey on the basketball court of Neumann Goretti Junior High School. It had been Adam’s first day of junior high; he was a pimply, uncoordinated, tall mess. That summer he had grown a foot in two months and was never sure what to do with his new bulk. He had first seen Joey leaning against a chain link fence, standing on tiptoes and peering to the right. A confused Adam had walked over to him, wondering what the other boy was doing.

 

“Girls,” Joey had said, pointing through the fence at the all-girls school across the street. Joey had found the one place in the fence where they could see the other half of their species. It had only taken one word, but it had been enough to start a friendship that persisted some fifteen years later. Joey and Adam had gotten through high school together; Joey’s mom had helped Adam buy his first boutonniere for his first real date with a girl, a dance held in their school’s gym. They had been brothers before Scarred Angels and they would always be brothers.

 

Adam pounded loudly on the door to the warehouse. He knew this was stupid, very stupid. But he didn’t know what else to do, or where else to go. The warehouse was a large, nondescript brick building that sat right on the water. It was one of many buildings on this unimpressive stretch of road that all looked the same, but he knew this was where Andre worked. This was his headquarters. Adam had never come here before during the day like this. Before their days of going legit, Scarred Angels had done some work for Andre’s people, but not in a while. He had never come uninvited before.

 

They knew he was there. There were cameras everywhere. There was one pointed at his face right at that moment but still no one appeared Adam pounded on the door and stared into the camera.

 

“Let me in, Dre. It’s just me, no one else. I need to talk to you.”

 

Finally he heard the sound of a panel sliding as a partition was removed and a pair of dark eyes started at Adam from the other side of the door.

 

“I need to speak to Andre. It’s an emergency,” Adam said. The pair of eyes continued to stare, making no movement, barely even blinking. Adam stared straight back into those eyes, unwilling to leave. Finally the eyes looked away and Adam heard a series of locks click as the door swung silently open.

 

A man stared at Adam, looked him up and down. “Spread your legs, hands on the wall.”

 

Adam did as he was told and felt the man expertly frisk him. There were no guns or knives to be found; he had left them all in the car. Andre was smart and careful. He trained his people well, never cut corners; Adam knew this would happen. The man felt the lump in Adam’s breast pocket and pulled out the wad of cash Adam had brought with him. It was over five thousand dollars.

 

“That’s for your boss,” Adam said as the man flipped through bills and then handed them back, finally permitting him to enter the garage.

 

The first room was a literal waiting room. It was outdated-looking, with a crappy old TV playing the local news, folding chairs, and faded green carpet. A beautiful woman sat behind a desk with a computer, filing her nails and doing everything in her power to not look up. Andre’s company was listed as a delivery service, but what they delivered was a whole different matter.

 

From the main room, the nameless man led Adam back through an office, and then he keyed in a code and opened another door that opened to a seemingly endless flight of stairs that went down into darkness. Adam followed the man, tracking a twisting and turning path through endless hallways and endless locked doors until, finally, he found himself in front of a dark mahogany door.

 

The man knocked twice and then opened the door, shoving Adam inside. Where the office upstairs was outdated, the one below street level was beyond tricked out. There was plush carpet, leather chairs, multiple flat screen TVs, a pool table, and tanks filled with all sorts of fish and other reptiles. Andre sat alone on one of the couches, that day’s New York Times crossword puzzle half-finished in his hand.

 

“I’m sorry to come unannounced,” Adam said.

 

“What’s a four letter word for ‘reply’?” Andre asked, searching the ceiling for clues.

 

“I have no fucking idea. I hate puzzles.” Adam responded. “I need to know where the Soul Stealers work from. They took one of ours.”

 

“Begins with an e...” Andre mused.

 

“Five G's, Andre. I know you have no love for the Soul Stealers. I know they’re bad for your business. Help me out here. I can get rid of them for all of us,” Adam said, throwing his money down on the table.

 

“Thought you went straight?” Andre said.

 

“They took one of ours. No matter how straight you go, you can’t let that pass.”

 

“I can’t be getting involved in the actions of biker gangs. I ain’t putting myself in the middle of that fight. I like you Adam. But like ain’t enough to pick sides in a war. Now, back to the puzzle, four letter word for reply begins with an ‘e’.”

 

“For fuck’s sake, Andre. Are you playing literal games with me right now? People are going to die. You need to tell me what you know.”

 

“I don’t need to do anything. You’re on my turf, and you need to listen to what I am saying to you.”

 

“You’re not saying anything!”

 

“Four letters, starts with an ‘e,’ a reply,” Andre stared into Adam’s eyes and watched as it finally clicked.

 

“I hate puzzles,” Adam said, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought. A five letter word for reply, a five letter word that meant to reply... “Echo,” he said, looking at Andre.

 

“It fits,” Andre said.

 

“Echo Lane...” Adam said, looking at the other man.

 

Echo Lane was a small community down by airport, technically part of the city, but separated from the rest of it by the highways. You could get anything there: drugs, guns, women, men, anything. But the items for sale on Echo Lane were cheap and dirty. There was no order down there; shootings and stabbings were an everyday part of life. Neither the police nor the gangs had any real sway in Echo Lane; it was where the lowest of the low got their fix. Echo Lane was lawless chaos. It was where people went to die. It made perfect sense the Stealers had set up shop in Echo Lane.

 

Adam threw the wad of bills on the table and Andre took a moment too look above his newspaper at the money. “What’s that for? I didn’t tell you anything.”

 

“It’s for your continued support of Scarred Angels, Andre. We always enjoy seeing you there,” Adam responded as he turned and walked towards the door.

 

“Be careful, Mendel,” Andre said from behind him. “People go missing in Echo Lane every day. Don’t go alone and don’t bring that girl.”

 

“Never,” Adam said as he followed his escort back out. He doubted Dakota Kane had even heard of Echo Lane. There was no charity there, no soup kitchens. It was beyond saving, beyond redemption. The people there were dangerous and unpredictable, life had tossed them like garbage into Echo Lane and the people who lived there knew them once they found themselves there, they would never get out. And that was exactly where Adam needed to go.